


A Single Point

by Sherlock1110, sherlockian4evr



Series: Sherlock and Mycroft Fluff [27]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Childish Sherlock, Competition, Competitiveness, Geniuses, Holmes Brothers, M/M, Pouty Sherlock, Some Fluff, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 14:23:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7056151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlock1110/pseuds/Sherlock1110, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockian4evr/pseuds/sherlockian4evr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and Mycroft take an IQ test. Mycroft's IQ is one point higher. Sherlock doesn't like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Single Point

4 year old Sherlock rolled his eyes. The idiot woman giving him his test had asked him for the third time what the picture showed on the card. It hadn't changed. It was still a black hole and he told her that, adding, “Are you deaf?” after his reply.

The blonde woman frowned at the young boy in front of her. Across the room was another woman sat beside 11 year old Mycroft and she was getting similar responses to the blond woman.

As the blonde placed five cards down on the table, Sherlock climbed up in his seat and turned upside down. He didn't wait for her boring instructions, just reached and put the cards in order of the silly story they depicted about brushing teeth in the morning. The blonde woman frowned down at him.

Mycroft was having just as much luck as his brother with competent adults. “If you're going to lay them out to test my IQ at least make it more difficult than swapping two…” he grumbled at the woman beside him, but managed to retain his bum in his seat unlike his brother.

Annoyed, the first woman pulled out the next card. It had a series of shapes. Sherlock sighed and pointed to what was obviously the next in the series. “Are we done yet? This is boring.”

Mycroft actually laughed this time. “He has a point, miss whatever your name is. These questions are dreadfully dull.”

The two women exchanged exasperated glances. “Just a few more minutes,” the woman testing Mycroft promised.

The older boy shook his head. “You heard her, 'Lock. Be good and finish the test. Mummy promised you ice cream if you were good.”

“Ice cream is not a big enough reward for proving I'm not an imbecile.”

“Er…” the woman testing Mycroft started. “How does your brother know such words? He's 4.”

Mycroft smiled as he pointed at the inverted triangle on the card before him. “Ask your colleague. After testing him, I'm sure she can explain.” At the woman's blank look, he continued. “My baby brother is a genius, I'm quite certain, as am I.”

She made an indignant sound.

“Laugh all you like, lady, he'll have the IQ or our prime minister. In fact, it will likely be higher. As will mine.”

“He's 4,” she repeated.

Mycroft rolled his eyes. “You can repeat it as much as you like, it won't change anything.” He tapped the blue octagon. If he were just a few years younger, he'd be upside down in his chair like his brother. The whole affair was incredibly tedious.

“Right, Sherlock, we're done,” the first woman said.

“Haha, Mycie, beat you!”

“It's not about speed, little brother.”

Two more questions and Mycroft was done. It was a good thing, too, because Sherlock's patience had reached its end. He was about a heartbeat from climbing the walls, well, the bookcases. Mycroft grabbed his hand and tugged him from the room. “More waiting I'm afraid, little brother.”

“Why?” He whined.

“Got to wait for our results.”

“Boring. Besides, I already know my score will be better than yours, Mycie.” Sherlock bypassed the kiddie toys in the waiting room and scrambled onto his mother's lap. “I want my book.”

“Just sit still for a moment, 'Lock.”

He pouted.

“It should only be 10 minutes,” his mother offered.

Mycroft, as usual, managed to pass the time with some decorum. Quite a bit, actually, considering he was only 11 years old. Sherlock, on the other hand, fidgeted incessantly.

“Mummy, I want to go. I'm bored,” the youngest Holmes whinged.

“'Lock, come here,” Mycroft ordered.

Still pouting Sherlock moved over to sit on Mycroft's lap. The older boy entertained his brother by whispering deductions in his ear about the other people that were waiting. He even challenged Sherlock to make some deductions of his own. After a bit, the blonde woman that had administered Sherlock's test stuck her head out and called them all back.

Mycroft tickled him as they went through the door. He collapsed into the nearest chair and pulled Sherlock down on top of him.

“Mrs. Holmes,” the woman began, “as I'm sure you are already aware, you have two very bright boys.” She made herself smile at Sherlock and Mycroft in turn. “I'll let you read the results for yourself.”

Violet took the proffered papers and scanned them. Sherlock had scored a 171, Mycroft a 172. She gave Mycroft his paper with his own score but grabbed her younger son by the hand and led him slightly to the side. She crouched down to his level, despite him always insisting that he hated it when she did that. “Sherlock, you need to understand that you are a lot younger than Mycroft and you still did very well.”

“Mummy!” Sherlock stamped his foot. “Did I do better than Mycie?”

“It wasn't a contest. You got a 171. That's very high. You're my little genius.”

“And Mycie?”

Mrs. Holmes grimaced. “He got a 172. So he's my big genius. But it doesn't matter, Sherlock, it wasn't a competition.” She dropped her hand in his tangled curls as she straightens.

Sherlock scowled like a teenager and then took off out of the room.

“I'll go after him, Mummy,” Mycroft said as he followed his brother. Perhaps he should have scored lower on the test, but Mummy would have figured it out if he had tried. He also couldn't just let Sherlock win all the time, despite his age and despite the age gap. He needed to learn, after all.

Sherlock had stopped by the stairs that led up to some of the upper offices, he was sat on the bottom one leant against the wall. “Piss off, Myc,” the little boy said upon seeing Mycroft approach.

The older boy let out a very adult like sigh. “Language, baby brother. Mummy would be appalled.

“Mummy isn't here. You are. Why?”

“It doesn't matter, Sherlock, it's just a test.”

“It's boring. You won.”

“It wasn't a competition. But I am older.”

“Mummy said age wasn't supposed to matter.”

“It's not, but you took that test. Maybe you're only four, but I'm sure you could see it wasn't well designed.” Mycroft sat next to his brother. “If you had never helped Mummy in the kitchen, you couldn't have put the cards on making a cake in order. The test assumes some experience.”

“Cooking's boring.”

Mycroft chuckled. “Not to Mummy it isn't.”

She appeared at the door. “Come on boys, let's head home.”

“Ice cream, Mummy,” Sherlock said immediately as if she needed to be reminded.

***

Sherlock glared at his brother.

“'Don't be smart Sherlock, I'm the smart one.' That's what you always said.”

Mycroft sniffed. “I am the smart one.”

“You only beat me by one point, Mycroft, and the test was flawed. Those women were totally incompetent that administered our tests.” the detective leapt to his feet. “In fact, I challenge you to a rematch. And the age gap,” Sherlock repeated, despite it not making a difference all those years ago.

“Sherlock…”

“It does matter! It would have been a fair test if we'd waited until I was 11 for my go!”

“Age is taken into consideration, you know this!”

“Well they were wrong.”

Sherlock plucked at his violin. “Are you afraid, Mycie?” A sour note twanged particularly loud. “That's it, isn't it?”

“Don't be absurd. I accept your challenge.” Mycroft stood and straightened his jacket. “We shall meet and take the test in the morning.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes just in time for John to walk in.

“What are you two up to?”

“Or… alternatively, hello, John,” Mycroft admonished.

The doctor looked the older man up and down. “Yeah. Hi. Now what are you up to?”

“He's being childish, John,” the government official said in his most annoyingly bland tone. “Just because I scored a point higher on an IQ test than he did when we were young-”

“I should have had the highest score!”

“You were 4!”

“That's my argument,” the younger brother countered.

John rolled his eyes. “The pair of you are childish. Even in a three piece suit you pull it off remarkably well.”

Mycroft sniffed. “I am a minor government official being pushed to his limits by his petulant little brother. I am not now nor have I ever behaved childishly.”

“Right,” John snorted, clearly amused. “How foolish of me to think otherwise.”

“Only children lie, brother dear,” Sherlock argued just to prove a point.

“Lying?”

“Minor government official indeed.”

“He's got you there,” Greg said from the doorway.

“Greg, you're just in time for the childish bickering. It was just getting good. Tea?” John had already put the kettle on and was pulling down mugs.

“We were not childishly bickering!” Mycroft argued immediately.

“Did I hear you say you were a minor government official?” Greg asked.

Mycroft opened his mouth, closed it, then snagged the DI's tie and pulled him in for a kiss instead.

“John!” Sherlock yelled immediately. “The child is kissing.”

Greg snorted his laughter into his boyfriend's mouth. Mycroft pulled back, indignant. “Gregory!”

“John, would you mind?” the DI asked.

“Not at all.” John grabbed Sherlock and snogged him thoroughly.

“Gregory, my baby brother is kissing!”

“I am not a baby!” Sherlock exclaimed as soon as he could get a breath in.

Greg chuckled, then addressed John, “What's got them going this time?”

“They're arguing over who's the smartest.”

“When you're as smart as they are, does it really matter?”

“Of course it does,” both brothers exclaimed simultaneously.

“And it's clearly me!” Mycroft interrupted any protests his younger brother had been about to present. “Father clearly used up the clever gene before he got to you!”

Sherlock eloquently stuck his tongue out at his brother to proclaim both his displeasure and disdain.

“Oh, very mature, brother-mine.”

“This isn't fair!” Sherlock pouted, he went to take off but John caught his arm.

“Behave, little Lockie.”

“That does it,” Sherlock declared. “John hand me your laptop.”

“Why?”

“There must be IQ tests online. Mycroft and I are going to take one now.”

“You have got to be kidding…”

“No. He's not. Because for once that's actually a really good idea. But, little brother, you are not going to start before me and we are going to do the same test. At the same time.”

John weighed up with Mycroft had said. Seemed fair. “One problem. We've only got one laptop.”

“Sherlock, what did you do with yours?” His older brother asked.

The detective looked out of the window. “Bye bye laptop,” he said with mock sadness.

“I'll have mine dropped off.”

“I would like to make one thing perfectly clear, babe.” John pointed a finger at the detective. “My laptop does not go out the window no matter the results you get.”

“I'll use it,” Mycroft offered. “I know I'll win. So it won't go out the window. Not that it would on the occasion that I become terminally ill in the next half an hour and happen to lose.”

“Yours'll be going out of the window no matter what,” Sherlock threatened.

There was a rapping on the door and all eyes turned to it as Anthea stepped into the flat. “You're laptop, Mr. Holmes.”

“Thank you. It has been backed up recently,” Mycroft verified with his PA. At her nod, he smiled. “Good. Just in case it goes flying.”

“You two can go and deal with the kettle whilst Greg and I sort out the tests,” John ordered.

Sighing, Mycroft complied having to return for his scowling brother after a moment.

“Mycie!” Sherlock complained as he was dragged to the kitchen.

“I'll not have you cheating by glimpsing the test ahead of time.”

“I don't cheat!”

“Neither do I. I don't need to. I can beat you fair and square.” Despite his earlier argument he added. “Just like when we were younger.”

Sherlock stamped his foot as they filled four mugs.

“Holmeses, get your arses in here!” John yelled.

“You, British Government Holmes, in this chair.” Greg pointed to the chair John usually sat in.

“And you, Junior Homes, on the sofa.” The doctor grabbed his boyfriend by the ear and dragged him over to it, then pushed him downwards.

Sherlock glared up at him. “You are just like mummy.”

Mycroft burst out laughing. “A little less feminine though, little brother.”

The detective's response was another laugh. “A fact that I find quite satisfactory.” Sherlock smiled at John in a suggestive manner.

“Oi!” The doctor dropped Mycroft's laptop onto Sherlock's lap. “Wait until we give you the signal to start.” He pointed a finger at his boyfriend. “I mean it!”

Sherlock knew not to disobey. For one thing, it was John and that would definitely have repercussions. Extremely bad repercussions. And secondly he wanted his brother's defeat to be fair and square, else he'd be accused of cheating.

John and Greg exchanged amused glances. The doctor nodded and Greg called out, “Go.” Both Holmeses set to work with a frenzy of tapping keys.

“How long do they usually take?” The DI asked when they'd moved out of the room but so they could still keep an eye on them.

“Between 25 minutes and 45 usually.”

Greg nodded. “They'll be done in 15 then.”

Soon enough, Sherlock called out, “Done!” as he leapt up from the sofa. “I beat you again Mycroft.”

“Yes, yes, brother-mine, now do be quiet.” the elder Holmes took a few more moments to complete the test. “It's not about being the fastest.”

Sherlock crouched down again to glance at his score.

“191! Beat that, Mycroft!”

John stood gobsmacked in the hall, the DI just behind him. “Are you serious? That can't actually be your IQ.”

“Mycroft?” Greg asked. “Is that even possible?”

“Theoretically, there is no upper limit on IQ, Gregory.” The elder Holmes let out a dramatic sigh. “Alas, I didn't perform up to expectations. My score is only 192.”

Sherlock flung himself across the room and snatched up John's laptop.

“Oi, Sherlock, watch it!” John snapped.

“This is impossible,” Sherlock growled. “You cheated.”

“I did not!” Mycroft declared indignantly. “I didn't cheat today and I didn't cheat when we were children.”

“It's not fair! I'm smarter than you!”

“Babe,” John soothed, “it was only one point.”

“But it was one point 30 years ago!”

“You know it's honest then,” Mycroft pointed out.

“And it hardly matters,” John added. “The one point, I mean. As far as I'm aware anything over 140 is genius.”

Sherlock threw himself back down on the sofa, facing the back. “It does matter. Now Mycroft can gloat.”

“He's not going to gloat, babe. If nothing else, Greg won't let him.”

“He'll be thinking it.”

“You think annoying things about him all the time. In fact 3 years ago you would have said most of them,” John dragged him upright and spun him around on the sofa.

He huffed out a breath and looked towards the window. “I know that.” His tone was that of a petulant child caught misbehaving. “But he's always been better at everything than me.”

“That's not true, baby brother.”

Sherlock grabbed the Union Jack pillow and punched it a few times. “It is!”

“You're better at the violin,” Mycroft pointed out.

“Irrelevant.”

“And legwork.”

That brought a thin smile to Sherlock's lips. “Yes. I am good at that.”

“Because I am bad at that. Really bad.”

Sherlock nodded. “You don't have to be, though.”

“I'm the British Government I have no need to be good at it. I have you.”

Sherlock laughed, the tension completely breaking. He tossed the Union Jack pillow at his brother. “I suppose you do have me at that.”


End file.
